


the curse i do deserve

by ficfucker



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: (from background characters), Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: jesse & bathrooms? odd relationship, to say the least





	the curse i do deserve

**Author's Note:**

> title from burn your house down by the peculiar pretzelmen 
> 
> // 
> 
> heads up that there is a little bit of jesse talking about violent transphobia but it's not too graphic and i made sure not to include any slurs, but still, proceed with caution if that thing is upsetting

Jesse had assumed he was beyond embarrassment at this point, but when he hiccups wetly, he turns his head away, tucks his chin into his shoulder. He’s sick of crying. He’s cried more in the last few months than he ever has in his life, it seems. 

 

This is just the cherry on top of the shit sundae. 

 

Mr. White comes over with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a kitchen towel and offers them out. Jesse takes them and presses them to his brow. He’s still origami folded into himself. 

 

Mr. White clears his throat, moves his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Would you… like to talk about what happened?” 

 

Jesse sniffles. He feels like he’s done crying, but his eyes are still wet, his nose is still leaking thin strands of transparent snot. “You know what? I really fuckin’ wouldn’t.” 

 

Mr. White nods dumbly, like he understands. He doesn’t. “Food then? I could call out or whip something up if you’re hungry.” 

 

“Do whatever, man. I’m not a little kid. And I’m not like, dying.” 

 

“Jesse,  _ you’re _ the one who called  _ me _ .” 

 

Jesse can feel his eyes well with tears again because, dammit, he  _ did _ call Mr. White, and in a perfect world, where things weren’t weird and asking for comfort in these situations wasn’t so alien, Jesse would be curled up in Mr. White’s lap like a second grader with scraped knees. 

 

His face is leaking. Jesse doesn’t know how to turn it off. He’s a cocktail of emotions: shame, anger, fear. 

 

“I- I was in the men’s room. The-the one at that skeezy little taco place near the laundromat ‘cuz like, a man’s gotta eat. And a man’s gotta piss, ya know? And I was at the urinal doin’ my thing and no one is around so it’s no big deal and then two dudes - guys I went to high school with when I was like, a sophomore - they were seniors or some shit then, I think. They come in together and by the way: since when do guys go to the bathroom in pairs?” 

 

Jesse laughs humorlessly, sucks some snot back up into his head. Mr. White is sitting across from him now, in one of the identical armchairs he’s got in his apartment. He looks at Jesse with patient and sympathetic eyes. 

 

“So anyways. They come in and I’m finishing up, but it’s clear they recognized me, so they start getting up in my business when I’m washing up and-and I’m just tryna get outta there, but next thing ya fucking know I’m being plastered up against the wall. Like, people know I’m-I’m - you know, they know that I’m-,” Jesse gestures to himself with his free hand, doesn’t want to say the word out loud, like it’s some kind of toxic thing. 

 

“Got knocked around but I didn’t have anything on me and it wasn’t really about that, ya know? Just did it ‘cuz I was there and they were there and like, why miss an opportunity to beat up a kid like me?”

 

There is a sharp moment of pause where Jesse just breathes loudly and Mr. White watches. 

 

Jesse is surprised Mr. White doesn’t ask what they said. There were some fun slurs tossed around, as always when these things happen, but Mr. White doesn’t prod for those details. 

 

“It ain’t a secret or some shit,” Jesse says softly. The bag of peas crinkles as he moves it away from his head. “So like, some days you get jumped in the bathroom at the fuckin’ taco place because kids in town know you’re… the way you are.” 

 

Mr. White nods and leans forward, reaches out and touches Jesse gently on the knee. “It was brave, for you to call me, Jesse.” 

 

Jesse scoffs. He sure as hell doesn’t feel brave. He feels like oatmeal that’s been left out too long. 

 

He had been blubbering on the phone like an idiot when he had called, driving one handed and trying to squint away the tears. He had practically fallen into Mr. White’s apartment as soon as the door opened, slumping on top of Mr. White and sobbing like an infant. 

 

Jesse is thankful, though. He could never go to his parents about these things- anything in regards to his gender and the aggression he faces in response. Him and Badger sometimes got high enough that it wasn’t a shy topic anymore, but Jesse always felt weird and guilty as soon as the weed ran out. Now he has Mr. White to run to. 

 

If he could pull himself together and quit his crying, he’d probably ask Mr. White to go to the bedroom, lay out a quick fuck to get himself away from his thoughts for a while. They’ve done it before. Without crystal, Jesse needed something to make himself far away and that usually did it. 

 

Mr. White sometimes tries to ask if Jesse is alright after, coddle him with soothing words, but Jesse stays distant. Sex is a defense mechanism in most aspects. 

 

Today, they’re being vulnerable. 

 

“You know where you belong, Jesse. You know who you are and people don’t get to tell you otherwise,” Mr. White continues. He gives Jesse’s knee a squeeze. 

 

“Yeah,” Jesse says quietly. He sniffles and Mr. White hands him a tissue. 

 

“And you’re doing good. You’re handling things… well. Given the circumstances, you’re doing phenomenally, Jesse.” Mr. White is talking like this is a parent teacher conference. 

 

Jesse nods. He licks his lower lip, which is papercut split in the middle. “Hey, could we grab a shower?” He’s all cried out, no venom left in him, and a shower sounds like heaven. 

 

Mr. White’s eyebrows go up, surprised. “Together?” he asks. 

 

“Yeah, I mean, if you want.” 

 

“Alright.” 

 

Jesse hands Mr. White the bag of peas and starts down the hall to the bathroom. He pulls off his shirt, drops it on the floor, and turns on the shower head. He glances in the mirror while he waits for the water to warm. There’s a ring of finger shaped bruises around his bicep, where he got grabbed. The swelling over his eye has gone down considerably and it looks like he’ll have a shiner, but he’s thankful his eyelid won’t be inflated shut. 

 

Jesse let’s his eyes drop down to his chest in the mirror. His scars are almost completely gone now, thin white slits about an inch below his nipples. He places his palms over them flat and breathes in, feels his ribcage expand. 

 

He wishes he had a joint. 

 

Mr. White comes in and Jesse startles. He flushes and turns away, unzipping his jeans and letting those join the pile on the floor. He’s standing in his boxers and he can hear Mr. White undoing his belt behind him. He kicks off his underwear and gets in the shower, stands under the stream of hot water with his head down. 

 

“You look good, Jesse. Healthier, I mean.” 

 

Mr. White steps into the shower and they’re facing each other. Warm water mists onto Jesse’s neck and chest in little droplets. 

 

“You look good, too. For a wrinkly-ass old man, I mean.” 

 

Mr. White smiles, a true smile, and takes Jesse by the shoulders and turns him around. He starts lathering Jesse down and the bar of soap smells like cedar wood, kind of how he would smell right before they cooked together. Jesse leans against Mr. White, back to front, and lets himself wind down while Mr. White soaps his chest and arms and stomach. 

 

“You’re a handsome man, Jesse,” Mr. White whispers. He’s running his slick fingers along the ridges of scar tissue on Jesse’s chest and if anyone else were to do that, highlight Jesse’s transness so boldly, he’d probably recoil. 

 

Instead of pulling away, Jesse just touches at Mr. White’s arm. His dick gives a weak throb between his thighs. His head pounds dumbly. 

 

“Are you alright, Jesse?” 

 

“Wha- Oh yeah, ‘m fine.” Jesse turns around and lets the froth slide off him, watches as Mr. White starts lathering himself with the same yellow cake of soap. 

 

He reaches over and touches Mr. White between his legs and Mr. White makes a little “oh” sound, sucks air in between his teeth. Neither of them really ever ask permission to initiate, things just happen. 

 

“Son, you don’t have to-”

 

“Yo, just return the favor here.”  With his free hand, Jesse gestures to his crotch and he smiles up at Mr. White, takes a step closer to him. 

 

“Are you seducing me?” Mr. White asks. His tone is light and he sets the soap down. His hand curls into the fine pubic hair between Jesse’s thighs and he flicks his thumb over the head of Jesse’s t-cock in small circles. 

 

Jesse huffs out a soft moan and presses a needy kiss into Mr. White’s mouth, uses tongue. “Ain’t the first time. Gettin’ pretty good at it.” Jesse keeps twisting his wrist, tugging Mr. White in long, feverish strokes, and Mr. White keeps sliding his thumb over Jesse in aggressive spirals. 

 

“You are good at it,” Mr. White admits, half breathless. “You’re a good boy, Jesse.”

 

Jesse whines, presses his hips up to Mr. White’s thigh and starts grinding on him. It feels electrifying; how slick and warm things are with the shower going between them. Mr. White holds Jesse under the swell of his ass and kisses his jaw, his neck. He’s fucking into Jesse’s fist now, snapping his hips back and forth as he grips the boy. 

 

“Oh, fuck, Mr. White, feels so fuckin’ good,” Jesse drools. He’s got his hand pressed flat on Mr. White’s ribs and he can feel the little hill of scar tissue from his cancer treatment surgery under his palm. 

 

They are both cut open things. They are partners. 50-50. 

 

“So  _ good _ , Jesse. My handsome boy,” Mr. White praises. He kisses near Jesse’s ear, the side of his face where some bruising has already purpled. “Yes, just like that - keep doing- yes, Jesse, that’s good…” 

 

Jesse kisses him on the mouth again, forces his tongue against the other, and Mr. White starts kneading his ass, pushing his fingers into the soft flesh. Jesse whimpers, pulls away, sets his forehead to Mr. White’s shoulder. He’s panting now. His bottom lip smarts. 

 

“No one is going to touch you anymore,” Mr. White starts growling. His voice is low, like when he puts on his Heisenberg act. It makes Jesse’s dick throb harshly, a little confused. His heart rate picks up, like a flight or fight response, but in a good way. 

 

“You don’t deserve unkindness, Jesse,” he says and his voice is velvet soft just like that. “You’re a good boy.” He mouths at Jesse’s neck and Jesse thrusts harder against his thigh, dragging his t-cock along the smooth plane of skin. 

 

“Mr. White,” Jesse breathes. “I deserve- I deserve-” 

 

“Good things, Jesse. Softness. That’s right, c’mon now.” 

 

Jesse moans and clamps his legs around Mr. White’s thigh. He jerks him sloppily, faster than before, but with less coordination. His eyes cinch shut. “ _ Shit _ , Mr. White, so fu-uckin’  _ good _ ,” he hisses. His lower stomach tightens and drops like he’s in an elevator. Jesse trembles and frots mindlessly, his body taut, clenched as a fist as he comes. 

 

Mr. White continues to chant praise in his ear between kisses on the neck. His cock leaps in Jesse’s hand and he comes, too, with a deep exhale and a grunt. Some gets on Jesse’s hip, his thigh, but it washes off with the water and goes down the drain. 

 

“Fuck,” Jesse whispers. 

 

Mr. White kisses him on the side of the head and they peel off of each other. Jesse leans against the cool of the shower wall. The water stops and Mr. White steps out, draws the plastic curtain back. He hands him a fluffy green towel and Jesse pats down his face, starts rubbing out his hair. 

 

They end up in Mr. White’s bedroom. Jesse is in his boxers again and one of Mr. White’s button ups, which hangs down to his knees. Mr. White lies on his back, his hand over Jesse’s hand which is over Mr. White’s heart. 

 

Today, they’re being vulnerable. 

 

“Know how you said no one’s gonna like, touch me anymore?” Jesse asks. “In the shower?”

 

Mr. White hums. 

 

“Wanna get some beans again? We could poison ‘em.” 

 

Mr. White chuckles lightly, rubs a hand down Jesse’s back. “Process ricin? Well, I’m free Wednesday, I suppose. You?” 

 

Jesse smiles and doesn’t open his eyes. “Yeah, yo, I’m game.” 

 

“I’ll get up in a moment and cook for you. And I promise. No ricin in yours.” 

**Author's Note:**

> iffy about this fic but here's more trans jesse 
> 
> don't forget kudos + comments if u enjoyed this fic 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr @ficfucker!


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